


A Little Help from My Friends

by bienenalster (pinkspider)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Baking, Domestic Fluff, Ensemble Cast, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Available, blind dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4920148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkspider/pseuds/bienenalster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric had never pictured living in a frat house with a bunch of bros, much less that they’d all try too damned hard to help him out. Even if they were kind of dumb about it, bless their hearts.</p><p>Written for a Yuletide 2014 request for " fic about how the members of the team try to take care of Bitty in their own special (and sometimes unfortunately inappropriate) ways".</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help from My Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dytabytes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dytabytes/gifts).



> The Yuletide request was:  
> I'd like fic about how the members of the team try to take care of Bitty in their own special (and sometimes unfortunately inappropriate) ways. Extra points if there's mention of Holster and Ransom's attempt to hook Bitty up with a "girl who likes to cook".  
> Yes, please, A+ prompt.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to [rayemars](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rayemars) for beta reading and [Pax](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pax) for suggesting that it would be amusing to make Jack Zimmermann say "pie bird" as much as I could. You guys are the best.
> 
>  
> 
> I couldn't resist saying the words "pie bird" many times, so you can [click here for a podfic](https://www.dropbox.com/s/h3uqzvbbfkiw2cm/A%20Little%20Help%20from%20My%20Friends.mp3?dl=0).

**1**

"Fancy meeting you here, Eric."

Eric snapped his head up away from his textbook. Ransom never called him Eric. He was up to something.

"It's Thursday. We're always here," Jack deadpanned to his left.

"What a surprise indeed!" Holster's voice was louder than normal. It was a good thing that he was majoring in econ rather than theatre.

Jack and Lardo exchanged glances. Of course they were at their normal table in the library.

Ransom took a step to the left and gestured with a theatrical flourish at the girl standing next to him, whom Eric noticed for the first time. "This is Cynthia," he said. "She's from my o-chem class. Cool if she joins us today?"

Everyone nodded agreement and Ransom began a round of introductions as he took his customary seat across from Lardo. "... And this is Eric. He's here all the way from Georgia. In addition to being a star athlete," (Jack and Lardo glanced at each other again) "He is a highly accomplished baker."

Cynthia's eyes lit up. "Really? Me too. What do you like to bake?"

"Pies, mostly." Eric couldn't help but notice the teeny tiny fist bump that Ransom graced Holster with as he took his seat. They thought they were being subtle. Thought being the key word here.

"Cool."

"He made those mini-pies!" Holster pointed to the tupperware at the center of the table. "They're cherry almond!" Lardo rolled her eyes at him.

“May I?” Cynthia asked, turning to Eric. When he smiled and nodded, she took one of the pies and bit in. She sighed in pleasure. "Mmm, these are amazing. Can you share the recipe?"

"Of course," Eric replied.

Cynthia was quite pretty. She had a sweet, heart-shaped face framed by curly brown hair. Her nose was upturned and the bridge was crooked in a way that suggested it has been broken at some point in her life, but that just gave her character and made you wonder whether it was actually safe to cross her. Sitting down at the table, she tucked an errant curl behind her ear and pulled an intimidatingly thick textbook out of her bag. Eric guessed she probably was the sort of person he’d want to date -- if girls and people he’d want to date were categories with even a slight degree of overlap.

Within minutes, she was fully absorbed in her work. Everyone else except for Ransom and Holster soon did the same and their companionable silence resumed. Out of the corner of his eye, Eric could see the two of them staring intensely at each other. Holster jerked his head towards Lardo and Jack, and Ransom nodded back, his lips flattened into a thin line of resolve.

"Ow," Lardo broke the silence. "Alright, alright, idiots."

Her voice was the auditory equivalent of the world's most elaborate eye roll. "Jack, come on. We have that thing. Or whatever." She stood and tapped Jack's shoulder. He shook his head and followed her away. Cynthia looked up with a raised brow.

"Hey, Eric, weren't you telling me the other day that you want to learn how to make macarons?" asked Ransom as soon as Lardo and Jack were gone.

Eric resigned himself to facing this small social death head-on and put down his pencil. "Yep."

"Cynthia's really good at them. She brought some to o-chem after she went home for Labor Day. Oh, I know! Cynthia, why don't you come to the Haus on Saturday? You can use our oven. I can't make the thing work, but I bet Eric can show you. He's got the magic touch, if you know what I mean."

Holster's phone buzzed. "Hey, Rans, we're late for that thing with Shitty."

"Oh, yeah," said Ransom as he stood up. He had never even unpacked his bag of books. "I'll see you guys later."

They disappeared.

"Well,” Cynthia commented wryly. “They sure are smooth, aren't they?"

"They mean well," said Eric with an apologetic raise of his shoulders.

"You're not interested in being set up either, are you?"

"Uhm... I. No, but it's not because..." He trailed off awkwardly.

"Me either. You seem. Like. I don't know if we're really each other's types…” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Look. I'm sorry, Justin didn't tell me he was planning on doing this. Honestly, I was kind of hoping that he was working himself up to asking me out. So..."

An awkward silence stretched between them.

Eric could die.

"But I wasn't kidding when I said those mini pies are awesome," Cynthia tried again, gamely. "I really would like the recipe."

"Yeah, for sure! We should bake together sometime, definitely."

"But not this Saturday. Don't want to give those two any ideas, right?" She had a winning smile, and her voice lowered conspiratorially as she continued,  “Maybe we shouldn’t even share any macarons with them.”

“Absolutely not,” Eric grinned back. At the end of an hour spent exchanging baking tips and jokes at the cafeteria’s expense, they’d swapped phone numbers. If nothing else, it looks like he got a baking buddy out of it, so it wasn't all bad.

 

**2**

from: J. Johnson <3penny@me.com>

to: Eric Bittle <[ebittle@samwell.edu](mailto:ebittle@samwell.edu)>

date: Oct 3, 2014 at 2:43 AM

subject: just dropping in

 

heya bitty

how are u liking the new digs? i hope my room is nice and convenient. "my room." lol, u live in a place three years, it sticks /w u, i guess. i mean like i still think of it as "my room." :]

course it was never really my room anyway, i didn't own it, but it felt like i did, you know? I guess you already think of it as your room. but it probs is kinda still my room to you cuz of memory and all that. funny how you never really leave a place. some part of you stays there, and some part of the place goes away with u. u change ur room and ur room changes you. pretty crazy when u think abt it huh? Lol

anyway.

i just wanted to tell u a couple things real quick

  1. sometimes things get broken. a lot of the times you can fix them (make sure you tell dex thanks), but sooner or later you cant anymore.  and you should feel sad if you cared about those things. but you should also know that its ok. things change. sometimes they get even better. sometimes you get betsy 2.0 and its a step up in every conceivable way. so look forward to that. =p

  2. dont get too starstruck. just remember everyone is worse than u thought they would be but they’re also waaaaaaaay better than they seem. everyone says sth they regret eventually. stay loyal but keep a cool head i guess.

  3. ur going to think u made a mistake but thats not true. you just progressed ur story and got that much closer to the satisfying conclusion of your narrative arc.




enjoy the happily ever after, bro.

johnson

ps shitty IS going to get naked and lie on your bed sometimes, just roll with it, lol

 

**3**

One of the things that Jack had known about college but hadn't really known was the glorious burden of being "the guy who has a car." About halfway through his first semester, though, reality had hit him like a ton of bricks. Between his car and the age on his driver's license, Jack had been in high demand pretty much the moment he moved into the freshmen dorms. He'd quickly stamped out the notion he'd buy liquor for anyone illegally. The chauffeur duties had been somewhat harder to shake, even if they dropped off slightly once he moved into the Haus.

It wasn't so bad to be the Car Guy, anyway. In particular, Jack didn't mind when his passenger was Lardo. A quick jaunt into town for groceries or art supplies was always relaxing when it was with her. She had asked for a ride to a nearby outlet mall, and Jack could honestly think of worse ways to spend his Saturday afternoon than carrying bags for her. Keys in hand, he was just about to head out when he heard Bitty's voice from the kitchen.

As was de rigeuer in such times, the Haus smelled of nutmeg and comfort. Somewhat less normally, Bitty was talking on the phone instead of singing upbeat pop music that Jack didn’t recognize. It was definitely beyond the pale for him to sound so sad. Jack paused, concerned.

"I know. These things happen. I know. .... It's just, it was so unexpected, you know? I didn't think I would lose Julia so soon. .... Yes. Yes, that's fine. Thanks, Mama. Love you too." Bitty was standing at the counter, shoulders slumped. Over the soft metallic rustle of tin foil, Jack heard Bitty sniff once. The dissonance of Bitty looking so defeated, so sad -- in the kitchen, of all places -- was strangely unsettling.

Jack felt his jaw clench and his stomach sink. He cleared his throat to get Bitty's attention.

"Is everything okay?" Jack hesitated, just a breath away from reaching out to put his hand on Bitty's shoulder.

Bitty whirled around, his phone clutched in one hand. His face was streaked with both flour and tears. "Jack! Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Who's, uh, Julia?"

Bitty's pale face flushed bright red, and his too-bright gaze dropped to the bit of foil clutched in his other hand. "..'s my p...brd..." He mumbled.

"What was that?" Jack stepped in closer. Was this the time to hug Bitty or at least put an arm around his shoulder, would that be alright to do?

"She's my pie bird." Bitty winced. "Was. My pie bird."

"Uhm. I'm sorry for your loss." Jack hoped his tone was appropriate to the gravity of the situation. "Of your pie bird."

"Thanks, Jack. I know I'm bein' silly. It's just that Julia was my best pie bird, and the only one I brought here. It's okay, though, Mama's going to send Irma."

"Irma is... another pie bird." Bitty nodded. "What's a pie bird, Bitty?"

"Oh. They keep a crust from falling or the filling from boiling over, and they help to make sure everything bakes evenly. I usually make lattice tops, but sometimes I like to do something a little different, but I dropped Julia, and I don't think that I'm going to be able to make one out of foil, but I guess I can cut vents. It just won’t be as pretty." His voice trailed off. "Sorry to worry you."

"No, it's ok," Jack smiled at him. "Uh, what does a pie bird look like anyway?"

With a rueful smile, Bitty reached into a nearby garbage can and fished out a couple pieces of bright blue ceramic. Held together, they formed most of what used to be a little bird with its head thrust back and its beak parted. So, actually like a bird. Jack reached out for the broken bird. When Bitty handed it over, his fingertips brushed against Jack's.

Jack's heart skipped a beat.

"What're we doing?"

Jack jerked around to see Lardo in the doorway of the kitchen, purse in hand.

"Uhm, his pie bird broke," he explained.

"Pie bird?"

"I'll fill you in later."

 

"Think there's a place here I can get a pie bird?" Jack asked Lardo, shifting his load of canvases from the art store.

"Isn’t there a Sur la Table near?"

"Yeah, I guess if anyone has pie birds they would. I bet they have nice pie birds."

"Have you said 'pie bird' enough yet?"

"Probably not. I still don't have a pie bird."

 

The next morning, while outlining an essay, Jack left his door opened just a crack so he’d hear movements in the hall. Sure enough, he didn’t have to wait long before he heard a soft gasp followed by “And it’s Wellie red!” Then, a knock on his door.

Jack turned his chair around, already smiling. “Come in.”

 

**4**

The pie sat on the white plate, a lumpy brick of a thing just on the wrong side of golden brown. Its lattice was made of a mishmash of differently sized strips zigzagging crookedly across the valleys and hills of spiced apples below. The Haus kitchen was filled with a sweet, cinnamon-y smell. The undercurrent of burnt dough gave it a surprisingly pleasant edge. Dishes and measuring cups were piled high in the sink and both the floor and the countertop bore a snowy dusting of flour and a few stray shreds of apple peel.

When Eric saw the pie, he couldn't stop his hand flying up to cover his mouth, muffling his exclamation of "oh my goodness!"

"Can't let you hog all the baking glory," Shitty said, throwing an arm over Bitty's shoulders and smirking proudly at the pie.

Holster just held out a pie server to Eric. "You wanna do the honors, Bits?"

"Yes!"

Honestly, the boys probably should have just gone with pre made crusts for their first try, but once the few bits of burned crust were cut off, it was a highly respectable first effort.

Bitty would make bakers of them yet.


End file.
